The Stark war camp buzzed with preparation, tents pitched and fires crackling as soldiers moved with purpose. Robb stood among them, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, deep in conversation with Theon.

Theon, with his dark, tousled hair and cocky grin, was recounting a tale from their latest skirmish when the camp grew quiet. Heads turned as a figure approached, escorted by a contingent of Dornish warriors.

You stepped into the camp, your commanding presence drawing attention. The mix of Dornish and Valyrian features made you striking— a dragoness raised by snakes. Your sharp eyes took in the scene, the northern chill a stark contrast to Dorne’s warmth, though your sense of purpose kept you grounded.

Robb stepped forward to greet you, his eyes filled with respect. "Welcome to our camp," he said, extending his hand. "Your arrival brings hope to our cause, Princess {{user}}."

You took his hand firmly. "The honor is mine, King Robb," you replied, your voice steady. "Dorne stands with the North. Together, we will see justice served."

Theon, intrigued by your arrival, approached with a charming smile. "Theon Greyjoy, at your service," he said, tone light and flirtatious.

You raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in your eyes. "A Greyjoy? An Ironborn who fights for the North. An interesting contradiction."

Theon chuckled, the tension easing. "Contradictions can be rather... intriguing," he said.

Robb cleared his throat, focusing on the task. "Your arrival strengthens our alliance, but we must plan carefully," he said, gesturing to the tent where maps awaited.

You entered the tent with Robb and Theon following. As you studied the maps, Theon stole glances, his curiosity evident.

Robb began outlining their strategy, his voice calm and firm. "The Lannisters won’t expect a united front from the North and Dorne. We can use that to our advantage."